PS 3507 

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1921 ^ 

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The Christmas of Long Ago 
And Other Poems 



BY 
ELOISE EARLE DEAN 



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COPYRIGHT 1921, 

BY 

ELOISE EARLE DEAN 



v©CLA653042 

5NDEX PRINTING COMPANY 
ATLANTA, GA. 

DEC 10 1921 



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ytt^ motl^er's fair, fair face. 

"Do niY mot^n 




CHRISTMAS OF LONG AGO 



THE CHRISTMAS OF LONG AGO 

Oh, the rhymes and chimes and merry times 

Of the Christmas of long ago, 
When oak logs crackled on the broad hearth 

And the fields were mantled with snow. 

The walls festooned with holly and vine 

And berries melting red, 
While mistletoe hung in waxlike green 

From the chandelier overhead. 

The board was laid with damask rare, 

The candles with prisms shone, 
And rippling voices of children played 

With the treble of age now gone. 

In quadrille and Virginia reel 
Fiddling Ned swayed to and fro, 

And couples true to their warm, young blood 
Drifted under the mistletoe. 

With waspy waists and dainty feet, 

In trailing brocade they go. 
Like graceful vines at the blooming time, 

Tripping the lightsome toe. 

Oh, the world is running away to-day, — 
See the crimson life stream flow, — 

My heart turns back with a holy peace 
To the Christmas of long ago. 



Six The Christmas of Long Ago 



THE MESSAGE 

The crescent moon by a lone star 

In a sea of ultra-marine, 

Holds my eye like a magnet 

Though street crowds surge between; 

Oh, more than moon or evening star, 

'Tis shepherds that I see 

Listening to a thousand harps 

In spellbound ecstacy. 

The little town of Bethlehem 

Slumbering in peaceful rest. 

The new born babe in swaddling clothes 

Close by His mother 's breast ; 

Thrust forth your rays like spears of fire. 

Show men Golgotha's tree, 

Gethsemane, the crown of thorns ; 

Shine, shine for Calvary! 



The Christmas of Long Ago " Seven 



A SONNET 

The favored son who dreamed of greatness won, 

Of heavy sheaves low bowing 'neath the sky, 

The silent moon and stars and radiant sun 

To do obeisance everlastingly; 

His motley coat of costly fabric rare, 

But stirred his brothers' wrath — ^to fury fanned 

For they in him could nothing see that's fair 

And evil-eyed that day his downfall planned. 

A captive in a foreign land alone, 

His spirit soared and knew no prison wall; 

The nation tottered — famine sought the throne. 

Prepared of God, he heard his people call 

And swung the weight of empires dead to find; 

The vision and the spirit rule mankind! 



Eight The Christmas of Long Ago 



THE INDIAN'S GRAVE 

The tall oak trees with heavy umber trunks 

Cast patterns on the mould; 

The mellow cooing of a dove far off, — 

A frisky squirrel fluttering through the leaves; 

I stood enthralled, smitten to the heart 

With the ravishing beauty of it all ; 

And as I stood my eyes wandered afar, 

And fixed on something bare and red, — 

A mound of clay banked up severe and hard. 

All through the years no grass nor flower had grovfn 

To mark the resting of a gallant son. 

The hunters missed this one, — 

It was intact. A chief no doubt, — 

For even graves do speak of their own dead. 

Wealth lies beneath the clayey dome, — 

But no — I will not tell. 

Sleep sweetly on, thy treasures all lie unmolested by 

thy side. 
I will cover thee with cast-off boughs 
Like a brush-heap, I will hide 
My treasure. No alien foot shall 
Trespass here; for I will buy 
The field wherein it lies. 

INSPIRATION 

My spirit rides the waves to-day 

And mounts the white caps high, 

In childish glee slips through the spray 

And leaps up to the sky; 

My spirit rides the waves to-day 

And sips eternity! 



The Christmas of Long Ago f^e 



'OLE MARSE 

'*Put on de skillet an' put on de led, 
I'ze gwine er cook some shortnin' bread — '* 
Hush dat nigger, — ^whut ole marse sed ? 
He's comin' down heer caze I done hed 

Er feelin in ma bones. He ain*t 'er gwine 

Hu't nobody, he nebber do, yer mine 

Dem black eyes ob his'n, shoo-oo-oo! 

Dey looks yer thu and thu ! 

An' when he gits angry dey moves uprike, 

Jis' lak er sarpint ready to strak, 

An' den I sizzles an' wivvers wid fright, 

Same es er tree dat's hed de blite, 

I feels myself jis' skin an' bone 

Rattlin' in de night win' all alone, 

**Put on de skillet an' put on de led, 

I'ze gwine er cook some shortnin' bread — '^ 

Sh! I done tole yer now, hard head, 

Shut up 'bout dat skillet an' led, — 

Whut ail yer nigger? yer ain't 'spect folks 

Runnin' on wid song an' jokes. 

Wid me hit's diff'en don' yer see, 

Caze marse an' missis dey rais' me; 

I slep' right dar by Miss Georgiann 

An' when she wake, right dar I stan', 



^en The Christmas of Long Ago 



She say: *'Git me some water mammy please, 

Ma froat am dry an' dat 'ar breeze 

Frum de Norf so stiff I shivers, 

Close de winder an' pull up de kivvers, 

I'ze sorry I wake yer, mammy;"— 

An' she wuz de born image ob Marse Sammy. 

'En Miss Georgiann wuz a babe, her foot so small, 

I tuk de hul foot in ma mouf, heel an' all, 

Caze I hes er mighty 'daptable mouf; 

Ole marse he laf an' say, "On ma loife 

Cindy, youze cas' er spell ober dat chile," 

Caze she aint whimper all de while 

I nuss her 'cep she's hongry or colic or sompin'. 

An' she grow up putty sho' an' sich rompin,' — 

'*I'ze gwine er cook some shortnin' bread, 

Ma dona lubs shortnin' bread, — " 

Youze gwine git us in trouble treckly z'l sed, 

Good Lawd nigger! 'dars marse comin' 'round by 

de shed. 
Hes necktie stringin' on hes white shirt front, 
Hes coat tails er flyin' an' dat 'normus grunt, 
De ain't many folks sez es much in er day 
Es when he rais' liissef an '' 'Ugh um," dat way. 
Hes hat res' dar on hes haid dat high, 
I'ze min ob de chu'ch steeple strainin' ter de sky; 



The Christmas of Long Ago -Eleven 



He'z gittin' ole now an' hes ha'r so white, 

Lak ole miss silber, thin curls blowin' light; 

But dar ain't nobody eber git de bes' ob him 

Wid dem long white ban's an' him so slim, 

''Put on de skillet ah' put on de led, 

I'ze gwine 'er cook some shortnin' bread, — " 

Sh! dar he come, ben' yer haid low 

Ober dat shattrin' cotton row, 

Ain't yer got no manners? Ole miss train me, 

Caze she wuz caishus es she could be, 

He rule dis place an' dat am sho ! 

En' whut do a nigger wan' dat's mo' 

Dan er good warm house an plenny ter eat, 

De physic ef I'ze sick an' er comf'ble seat 

Right ober marse an' missis in de chu'ch, 

We wuz all dar — de debbil wuz in de lu'ch. 

I ain't nebber fergit dem lessens ma chile, 

When I nuss Miss Georgiann all de while; 

Miss Georgiann marr'd an' gone dez yers, 

Dat big sojer man, honey, scuze dez ters. 

Things ain't lak dey use ter be. 

But I lubs ma white folks an' dev lubs me. 



Twelve The Christmas of Long Ago 



BH0D0DENDB0N8 

(In New York) 

The rhododendrons are blooming 
In the old Maroony wood, 
The cardinal and thrash are there, 
Flaunting in rapturous mood. 

The wind steals in my window, 
Keen with the thoughts of home, 
Where the rhododendron's blooming 
And the farmer turns his loam. 

Stone walls and streets reverberate. 
My room is close and small; 
Caged, caged ! while thrushes try their notes 
And rhododendrons call! 



The Christmas of Long Ago . Thirteen 



THE CHRYSALIS 

My soul reposed in downy ease, 

Yet not content was I, 
But strove to push the walls away 

And live ere I should die. 

I walked in gardens drunk with flowers 
And heard the nesting birds, 

** *Tis not for me, for me,*' I cried, 
**The music of their words." 

A cross rose against a lurid sky, 
A cross I must bear alone. 

And staggering I broke the seal, 
Ah, then the sunlight shone! 



Fourteen The Christmas of Long Ago 

THE PIGEON WING 

When de meat is in de meat house 

An' de apples in de bin, 

An' de 'possum kotch an' fattenin' 

Er grinnin' mad es sin; 

Hit's den I hauls ma fiddle out 

An' twistes' up de string, 

An' calls out to Salina, come 

Le's cut de pigeon wing: 

Tee-te-ee-te, te-te-ee-te-ee, 

Tee-te-ee-te, te-ee-te-um, 

Tee-te-ee-te-um, 

Tee-te-ee-te-um. 

Fling dat skillet, fling hit high, 

Caze 'possum time es mighty nigh. 

Push dem cheers agin de wall. 

Open de doo' an' pack in all, 

I'ze got no licker, but I'ze got er smell 

Ob turk an' 'possum in de hall; 
Yance, yer rawboned scalawag. 
Step for'ard wid er swing. 
Kick up de dus' an' strak er spark 
An' swinge dat pigeon wing. 
Tee-te-ee-te, te-te-ee-te-ee, etc 
Spread out dar erbout de floo' 
Git right an' begin, 
Out dar Sam, yaller Jim an' Joe, 
Hit's er circus we gwine spin, 
Dere Salina, come step up swell, 
Don' yer slight yer pawt, 
Slam dem feets an' fris' erbout, 
Lawd, I ain't got no heawt: 
Tee-te-ee-te, te-te-ee-te-ee, etc. 



The Christmas of Long Ago Fifteea 



DE MORNIN'S GITTIN' BY 

Up so bright an early, lookin' at de sun, 
Whar lie rise in glory in de eastern sky ; 
But somehow er ruther de ain't much bin done, 
An' she ez fait' de mornin's gittin' by. 

Heap er things er comin' up frum heer an' dar. 
Takes a pow'ful site er time, — he slips so sly,— 
No matter whar yer leum frum, no matter whar yer are, 
Ole time he's er fudgin' an' de mornin's gittin' by. 

Watch out dar young folks lookin' at de sky, 
Sho ez loife hits comin' bofe ter yer an' I; 
Watch out fur de minites — diamonts in de sky, 
En don furgit my honey, de mornin's gittin' by. 

Soon be ole an' feeble, settin' by de fire, ' 

Hands all a-tremble an' ain't feel so spry; 
De misery gits yer in de side, an' feet dat ez so tire, 
Sho, ez fait' de mornin's gittin' by. 



Sixteen The Christmas of Long Ago 

THE SOUTH WIND. 

(In New York) 

The band swings round the comer 
j; With blast of trump and drum, 

'■ A lusty southern medley 

• Holds the people as they come ; 

The air is full of messages 

That thrill my soul to-night, 

The dipping of a ceaseless oar, 

The river at twilight. 
' Once more the lapping waters 

Of the old Savannah play, 

Once more the children gather 

At the close of summer's day 

In the cottage hung with woodbine, 

Where lilacs blue and white 

With jasmine and violets 

Lend perfume to the night; 

The dove croons o'er the valley 

The whippoorwill's wierd note. 

The mocker in the apple tree 

Trilling; the crimson throat 
• Vies with the frogs chug, chugging, 

In the pond by the pasture gate. 

Hear the waters rushing, rushing, 

Prom early morn till late 

And the speckled trout so frisky 

In the creek are nibbling bait ; — 

Oh, it*s where the South wind's calling 

My heart turns back again, 

With a kindly thought of neighbors 

And the preacher's great, amen! 



The Christmas of Long Ago Seventeen 



VIOLETS 

Flecked with red the clouds hung low, 

In the cove where the dog tooth violets grow, 

Banked in masses on the hill, 

Streaming down to kiss the rill, 

Mounting the crest where lost from view, 

They blend with sky ethereal blue ; 

Now, they catch the rays of sun, 

In myriad hues the dewdrops run. 

While lavender and mauve anew 

Like winged darts go stinging through 

My heart ; and in the morning air 

Perfume filters everywhere! 



Eighteen The Christmas of Long Ago 



COMPENSATION 

There 's a vista across the way from me, 
Though the field I may not buy, 

That wrings my heart for words to hold 
The splendor passing by. 

Stately, and tall, my sentinels, 
With trunks of Vandyke brown. 

Long arms of feathery lace entwined, 
The red bank tumbled down: — 

The sky blends yellow, gray and red 
As the disc leans and inclines. 

Gold spears strike to the zenith 
Through a clump of long-leaf pines! 



The Christmas of Long Ago Nineteen 



THE ALIEN 

He stands beneath the eaves of a holy clmrch, 

A lonely figure with great wistful eyes 

Tending his cart of parched peanuts and corn, 

The taper burns, he shakes the yellow grains 

That burst like snowflakes as they fall, each one 

With flutings shaped. Often I loiter near 

To purchase carelessly a little pack, 

And long to speak a word or two of cheer 

As silently he passes me a coin, — 

Alas, he is a Greek and cannot speak 

Our tongue or blend his dreary life with ours ; 

He stands apart and sees the crowd pass by 

With jest and joke and close companionship. 



Twenty The Christmas of Long Af» 



ON THE HUDSON 

The sun drooped low and tipped the Jersey hills, 
Across the river lay a band of gold 
Scintillating with rays of silver sheen, 
The blue gray smoke rose ti^r on tier and veiled 
The rugged hills in lavender and rose ; 
Expanding now the great ball softer grows 
As wisps of mauve and carmine shade each line, — 
A fold of gray floats lightly from the face 
While resting in the fork prongs of the trees 
The giant steadies, slings his mighty sword 
Of flame and slips in silence down the abyss I 



The Christmas of Long Ago Twenty-one 



THE HORSESHOK GLEN 

Come trip with me the Horseshoe Glen 
Where fairies hold their ball, 
And revel to the pipes of Pan 
No thought of care or call. 

Come where the rose and fern have wed. 
And drink life full and free, 
^ome Love and dance with me 
Until the reveille! 



Twenty-two The Christmas of Long Ago 



THE SUMMER EOSE 

The rippling of the merry brook, 
The tinkle of a soft guitar, 
Your dulcet voice — the fading beams 
Call me from afar. 

The summer days are almost gone, 
Have you trifled thus with me? 
And plucked a rose to fade and die 
For a moment's ecstacy? 



The Christmas of Long Ago Twenty-three 



A SONNET 

We labor up the great stone steps to pray 

And enter solemnly the family pew, 
Where kneeling low in contrite heart to-day, 

The service long and tedious go through ; 
The organ swells, soft chanting thrills the soul, 

In mellow tones the ministers proclaim 
With cross and covenant the way unfold. 

And all in one accord worship His name. 
The service ends, the music dies away. 

Strange thoughts arise of stocks and bonds and 
things ; 
To win the goal is life, who counts the way? 

To fail is sin, see how the market swings. 
Upon the street go plot and scheme with care, 
Yea, f orgeting God is everywhere ! 



Twenty-four The Christmas of Long Ago 



THE MOENING LIGHT 

The morning light is breaking 
And spreading through the earth ; 

The clarion call is sounding, 
The hour of the new birth. 

Across from India calling, 
Hear the soft strains come, 

The weary world is moving, 
She is swinging close to home. 

The morning light is breaking. 
Sin grapples hard, to sway, 

But Truth triumphant is marching, 
Hail to the dawn of day! 



The Christmas of Long Ago Twenty-five 

SALLY ANN 

''Run nigger run er de pattaro' '11 git yer, 

Run nigger run fer hit's a'mos' day." 

I'ze been across de 'Rony woods 

Ter see my Sally Ann, 

She b'long ter dem folks ober dar 

An' dis I jis' can't stan'; 

I sho' is boun' ter hab 'er, sho! 

An' she am willin,' man, — 

''Run nigger run er de pattaro' 'U git yer. 

Run nigger run fer hit's a'mos' day." 

We'ze gwine hab er corn-shuckin *, ugh, hugh, 

An' 'vite 'em all ober den, 

Caze I wants ole miss ter see her 

An' den de fun begin. 

Ha, ha, ha, I boun' ter wo'k hit thru, 

Ole Miss laks me, git away, 

She gwine fix hit right an' dis I know, 

I gits my Sally Ann ober ter stay. 

Fling me de fiddle an' fling me de bow, 

Caze I'ze gwine git Sally Ann, Sally Ann, I know, — 

"Run nigger run er de pattaro '11 git yer, 

Run nigger run fer hit's a'mos' day." 



Twenty-six The Christmas of Long Ago 



CAROLINE 

Oil Caroline, Sweet Caroline, 

Come lissen ter ma song — don' pine; 

Ma heawt strings beats de melody 

Ob yer name de whole day long, honey. 

(Soliloquy) Step lively dar yer dusky coon, 

De dawgs es er barkin' an' dere ain't no moon; 
Twang dat banjo mighty sly, 

Caze yer wake ole Miss an' hit be goodbye. 

Oh Caroline, sweet Caroline, 

I'ze under de winder, love o'mine; 
Open yer shutters jis' er peep 

Ter let me know yer ain't er sleep. 

I hes ter sing so pow'ful low, 

Fear ob de dawgs an' Miss de mo'. 
Dere's none dat haf so gran' an' fine, 

Oh Caroline, sweet love o'mine. 

Yer eyes is lak de glitt'rin stars, 

An' yer voice am sof lak masic bars, — 
Come tell me now, Oh Caroline 

Wid er happy smile dat yer be mine, 
Oh Caroline, sweet Caroline! 



The Christmas of Long Ago Twenty-seven 



LOVE 

Love flings her lines afar girdling the world 
With chains of gold fast linking round about, 
From crimson poppy fields to cherry blooms, 
Close by the hoary dragon's lair she glides 
And casts enchanting eye the Sphinx to V7in; 
The pyramids yield up their magic store, 
And all things give their best — their rarest gifts. 
And deep is love as countless fathoms dark. 
Still down to depths profound moving unheard; 
Then soaring upward cleaves the utmost blue; 
Orion and the Pleiades grow dim, 
On, on to worlds remote unknown to man, 
There is no bound for love, for love is God! 



Twenty-eight The Christmas of Long Ago 



MY OWN 

I can't tell just why I love you so; 

It seems to me there is no glow 

Of summer's sun or starlight gleam, 
But on that ray your face is seen ; — 

I can't tell just why I love you so! 

Your voice is whisperng cadence low, 
Like babbling brook or zephers blow, 
And oft I listen tlirough the night 
With senses tense and heartstrings taut;- 
I can 't tell just why I love you so ! 



The Christmas of Long Ago Twenty- 



nine 



THE WINDS 

Galloping with stirrups and spurs sprung taut, 

Down hill and corner steep, 

The alley alive with screeches wild 

As they lunge and whine and sweep. 

Swish! steel hands scrape the side wall 

And rattle the windows wet, 

Howling down the turnpike gorge, 

They charge and fight and fret, 

Grappling some fierce antagonist 

Deadly to beset; 

Onward like mad down chasms dark, 

Rumbling and thundering deep; 

These unseen knights in armor flash 

Lights over doubloons keep. 



Thirty The Christmas of Long Ago 



A TREE 

It was a rough and rugged tree, 
Wind scarred and knotty 
With scrubby boughs and twisted twigs, 
Hard favored hickory of the wood. 

A luxurious vine clung to its boughs 
With soft and curling tendrils, 
Caressing fondly the warty trunk; 
In clusters large and full. 
The flowers sift their perfume down 
Like vapor through the wood! 



The Christmas of Long Ago Thirty-one 



ILS N£ PASSERONT PAS 

lis ne passeront pas, resounded through the world, 
Into the breach ten million men were hurled; — 
lis ne passeront pas, — ^let despots quake with fear, 
Greed and oppression throttled everywhere. 

lis ne passeront pas, — right will prevail, 
Free men! America! we must not fail; — 
lis ne passeront pas, — redeem the cruel past, 
Strike the shackles from the slave at last ! 



FREEDOM 

Ay, free you are, yes free to live or die, 

To serve or sin or waste your time in vain, 

No mortal cares or asks the reason why 
Some flounder in the mire, others attain. 



Thirty-two The Christmas of Long Ago 



A SONNET 

Confucius strove with theories abstruse 

To plan the lives of men that ran to waste, 

And Buddha lifted high his scheme in truce 

And laid the deep absolving of his caste, 

Mohammed thrust his sword point in to gain 

Worshipful adoration, temples, shrine, 

The Shinto caught a ray across the main 

And man the wretched victim no peace could find. 

And when the groping world had madly sought 

From prophet, philosopher and king, yea all 

That knowledge could achieve was counted naught, 

As it was foretold, their theories did fall : 

The time was ripe, His star shone in the East 

And wise men came to worship the Prince of Peace! 



LIBRARY OF 



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